


anticipation

by summerson



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Activism, Angst, Canadian!Adora, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Modern AU, Protective Catra, Protests, activist!Adora, catradora, cop!Catra, hispanic!catra, nativeAmerican!Glimmer, protester!Adora, rage against the machine!, rally
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 10:54:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21117596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerson/pseuds/summerson
Summary: ‘Ca…?’ Adora’s voice wobbles thinly and her hand scrabbles to her shoulder over Catra’s. Squeezing the back of her hand and working over the soft skin of her knuckles, her wrist. ‘Ca…?’ Her voice wavers and whispers despite Adora’s best attempts to work around the burning in her throat. The burning that’s ravaging her from the inside out and outside in. She works around her sandpaper tongue and grates out in a rock rough voice ’S’that yo.u..?’…‘Yeah.’ Tired and weary but slightly bemused. How Catra. ‘Yeah. S’me…’





	anticipation

The world throbs underneath her. Above her. Around her. Swirling and swooping in black pixelated vision when Adora comes back into consciousness. Immediately, it brings awareness of a cold burning sensation steadily peeling at her arms, at her legs, at her chest and throat and back. At her face. Her eyes.

-‘_ah…’ _A low whine trembles out her gaping mouth. Wiry and waning in open air and silence as she croons around the stab of pain that pokes at her lungs when she breathes back in. _God her eyes._

Despite the fuzzy silence that's peacefully hovering in the dark her head feels like it’s been steam rolled by a freight train.

The push and pull of her muscles wakes up flaring bruises under her hands.

And - and _Jesus Christ _her _eyes._

She panics, still half bleary with sleep as she stirs, and she aches when her arms flail open in wide arcs. Struggling against the panic her fist comes down to clench onto a soft fabric that gives into her vice grip. A couch. And her other hand trails up to her chest where she tries to claw it out. The burning. The burning in her bones. Another whispering whimper tumbles from her lips as she struggles and fails to prop herself up and crawl away. Up and away from the tangling sheets that bind her down and-

_‘Stay still,’_ A voice murmurs softly. Foggy and far away and labored with weary weary exhaustion._ Adora doesn’t know where she is._

In the midst of her struggle a gentle hand comes up and rests lightly on her burning shoulder, pressing ever so slightly into the downy fabric that smells like fresh laundry detergent. Lemon breeze and mint leaf. It presses soft and imploringly into the fabric, tenderly guiding her back down onto soft cool pillows.

_But Adora doesn’t-she doesn’t-where was Bow? Glimmer? She’d promised their parents she would keep an eye on them. And then she’d gone and lost track of them amidst all the people - in the stampede - all the legs -_

_‘Your ankle’s fucked and I’m not picking you off the floor when you fall.’_

_…Cat-?_

_‘Ca…?’ _Adora’s voice wobbles thinly and her hand scrabbles to her shoulder over Catra’s. Squeezing the back of her hand and working over the soft skin of her knuckles, her wrist. ‘_Ca…?_’ Her voice wavers and whispers despite Adora’s best attempts to work around the burning in her throat. The burning that’s ravaging her from the inside out and outside in. She works around her sandpaper tongue and grates out in a rock rough voice ’_S’that yo.u..?’_

_…_

_‘Yeah.’ _Tired and weary but slightly bemused. How Catra. ‘_Yeah. S’me…’_

Adora’s hand doesn’t let up on the wrist clamped in her grip. Doesn’t let up because her eyes are still closed and the disorienting dark has sent her head spinning. She tries in vain to crack open her eyes and see where she is. Where Catra was but-

‘_Hey, don’t…don’t…’ _Catra’s hand shadows over the Adora’s darkness and then rests over her closed eyelids. Cooling. Calming. ‘Don’t try to open them yet. We might need to wash them out again.’

‘_Wash..?’ _Adora can’t really register anything past the burning. But she can feel Catra’s hand. Feels it solid and constant on her shoulder, connecting her to Catra who’s body by extension shuffles over a foot away. Never breaking contact. The slosh of water slapping at the rim of a bowl or basin echoes hollowly up to Adora’s ears. _She burns._

‘Tear gas.’ Catra explains. Adora hears the wringing of a rag, the water raining down and pinging back onto the water’s surface. Trickling and trailing wetly down the towel’s sopping threads. ‘Here, lean over.’

Catra tugs insistently at Adora's underarms and goes about pulling the brunt of Adora's disoriented person up a bit - carefully and attentively minding the bruises and abrasions blooming over Adora's ribcage underneath her shirt. The movement makes her feel a bit sick. Nauseous and ready to throw up. But Catra’s hand stays steady and Adora curls inwards so she can clench the cushion underneath her. White knuckle and squeeze as the cooling water spreads and sizzles over her eyes. Thank god…

‘Effects should wear off soon. But you practically breathed in a whole fucking canister while you were passed out.’ Catra mumbles close by. Adora can feel by their connecting limbs that Catra’s moved to sit down by the couch’s foot. Somewhere in the vague direction of her head.

‘Ankle’s a different story but I don’t think it’s broken.’ She tests her right foot first, rolling it tenderly before repeating with the left and - yep. She stiffens and forces her body go lax as she rides the wave out. Breathing in silver claws across her lungs with each intake and outake. 

But…Adora still doesn’t know what the fuck is going on. She was at the ralley. With Bow. With Glimmer. Heading another protest against Prime Industries at central. And then-and then police showed up. And then feds…and then…things got excited but…but for the life of her she can’t remember how Catra, a federal officer got mixed into this equation. Adora hadn’t even seen the FBI specialist since her rookie days. Back when she could still be found standing in a line of shields and standard armor issue at one of Adora’s upstart protests. That was a lifetime ago. Catra had been busy.

‘Where…?’ Adora sits up and strains against the seal on her eyes. Crusty tears and bucket water sliding down her face and bleeding into the fabric of what she concludes must be Catra’s hoodie.

‘My place.’ Catra dunks and wrings the rag once more before coming back up to swipe underneath and around Adora’s nose which also leaks an irritating mucous. Adora frowns and knits her brow at the compromising position of it all. ‘Roll over.’

‘Where are my friends?’

‘Roll over.’ Catra insists.

‘Catra.’

‘Adora.’

…

Adora petulantly obliges and sidles over onto her right arm so that she’s practically hanging over the edge of the couch. The bucket somewhere underneath her as the mucous, tears, and water trickle down.

Catra angles forward and dabs gently at her sealed eyes again. Squeezing occasionally so that the water gushes out and douses her eyelids. It really is a relief. But-

‘Your friends are fine,’ Catra offers. ‘They got out before people started getting arrested.’

‘_Arrested!?’ _Adora's muscles jolt and pull.

_‘_Relax! Jesus.’ Catra hisses as Adora hikes up onto her elbow so that Catra has to lean back and avoid Adora’s spasming reflexes.

But Adora doesn’t let up. Refuses. ’It was a peaceful protest!’

‘Adora-‘ Catra persists. Gentle but testing as Adora begins to pull and tug at the sheets and sidle her way further off the edge with the intent to stand resisting Catra’s insistent hands all the while.

‘Adora-Adora! Do I have to tie you down!?’

Adora snorts, moving to stand all the while. ‘Oh you’d like that wouldn’t you?’

‘Adora.’

Something tense and stern in Catra’s voice holds firm and solid against Adora’s struggles and pins her down. Gentle and tender. But insistent. No nonsense and unrelenting. Quiet and reserved silence coats the atmosphere as Catra hovers nearby, easing up and allowing Adora the choice to get up and stumble blindly through the streets if she wants but tense and willing her not to. Willing her to stay and allow Catra dab and wipe at her eyes and clear away the toxic gas still bubbling and ravaging in her lungs. To let her _help_ her. Eventually, Adora slumps back deflated.

_Drip drip drip._

…

‘Where are they now?’

Catra exhales and Adora can hear her wring the towel once more.

‘I sent them home.’ She chuckles tiredly and void of humor. ’They wanted to take you with them but I told them it wasn’t safe.’

Sounded legit. Except for…

‘Safe?’

Catra doesn’t answer immediately. Chews at the inside of her cheek while she leans in again and places a hand to the back of Adora’s neck. Supporting it with the palm of her hand and fingers playing at the soft tufts of hair at the back of her neck. Swiping underneath her right eye before exhaling tiredly.

‘You…really riled them up today, Princess. Never seen ‘em get that hyped.’

Oh.

‘Dispatch has got you pretty much pegged as the face of the rebellion.’

Oh…Adora remembered that. How they’d propped her up on the pillar. Pulled her up and shoved a megaphone in her hands so that she could chant and rally the Masses to their cause. The crowd had been enamored with the energy just as much as they’d been with Adora. Shouting and echoing in unison as Adora denounced the illegal encroachment of Prime Industries on tribal lands. It’d been magnetic. Powerful. Moving. Up until a police brigade had started launching tear gas and tried to throw her down off the dias. Cuff her. Shove her around. Those who didn’t run for their lives were herded out in droves. Those who weren’t herded out fought back with brick and stone. Those who didn’t fight…got run over in the stampede. Crushed underfoot and bashed into the cement and asphalt. That’s where Adora had found herself. Drowning under the chaos, shoved and bruised brown from the push and shove and pulse of boots and limbs until-…until she couldn’t remember what happened next.

Adora swallowed. ‘No one was supposed to get hurt.’

‘You got them excited. What’d you expect.’

‘We’re not the ones lobbing tear gas into open crowds.’

Catra draws in a breath charged with electricity and Adora can just _feel _a lecture coming on. One about rationality and reasonability and bullshit. All things Adora can’t bring herself to care or process when she’s tired and in pain. But then Catra exhales and squeezes the rag, hand coming back up to Adora’s face. ‘Prime’s been falling over itself in getting the FBI to write out a warrant to search your apartment…they’re probably over there now.’

…

‘Whole things been a crap shoot if you ask me. And a frickin pain in my ass. You know how much paper work you’ve been dragging me through for the last fucking month?’

Adora smiles through the dulling sting. Snarky and satisfied. ’I’m flattered you think I’m even worth the time,’ Adora says and wrinkles her face as the water drips down between her eyes.

She snorts. ‘Agency’s so hot and bothered with you and your ‘activism’ they put me on your godamn case. You’re a real hot shot down at dispatch you know that?’ That was interesting.

‘And here you thought a promotion would get me out of your hair.’ Adora twines a lazy finger around a wayward lock. A tiny bemused smile quirking up from the corner of her lips.

‘..here I thought…..’

They sit there together for a while then. Both soaking in the silence and easy twilight atmosphere that’s seemingly lulled everything else to sleep. Catra leaning on her elbow and propping up Adora’s head underneath so it doesn’t crane to bad. Adora humming while the cool water soothes away the sting into a numb throb. She doesn’t know what time it is, but it must be late. 2 or 3 in the morning. Adora doesn’t know what she’ll do in the next 5 hours. When the sun’s up and the sleepiness and calm of nights before tomorrows dissipates and dissolves for good…

‘I hope this knocked some sense into you,’ Catra wrings the rag.

_trickle, trickle, trickle._

‘What?’

‘Some common fucking sense. I hope this gave you a well deserved scare and showed you how serious corporate is about interference.’

Adora frowns. Brow furrowed. ‘Um. What is that supposed to mean?’

Catra tenses but pushes forward regardless. _’_Oh come on Adora. You’re still beating this horse?’

‘Just because Prime is abusing private military and federal forces - _again _I might add - doesn’t mean the protests are going to just stop. Kind of the opposite actually. Those lands _belong _to Glimmer’s people.-‘

Catra groans and slaps down the rag into the bucket. Old sores and arguments flaring up as Adora’s voice raises.

‘I mean - do you have any idea how many civil rights violations are going on underneath the hood at that place?’

‘That’s not my problem.’ _That’s not your problem._

‘Isn’t it?’ Catra doesn’t say anything to that and for half a heartbeat Adora thinks they’ve finished talking. Just as well she figures. But then…

‘Being a martyr doesn’t make you a hero.’

‘I didn’t mean to-‘

‘Well you did.’ The water swishes and swirls. Sloshes and swells at the lip of the bowl like a torrenting wave. And…

…oh.

_…_

…

Adora heaves a sigh. Neck propped up by Catra’s pillow, splayed out on Catra’s couch, and tucked into Catra’s sheets. Adora wishes she could open her eyes. See her face...

’We used to be on the same side of things, Cat.’

‘…that was college, Adora. Things are more complicated now.’ Catra’s voice sounds as weary as Adora feels. But she’s closer now. Leaning in near Adora’s head, her hand somewhere above Adora’s as she rests at the crook of her arm. If she feels for it, she can just feel the warmth of Catra’s breath nearby. Adora stills and keeps her head straight. Closed eyes staring up at the darkness of her eyelids.

‘I don’t see how.’ She whispers.

‘heh…of course you don’t.’ Catra says, just as soft. ‘You never did.’

And maybe Catra was right. Maybe she never truly understood what she was getting herself into all those years ago when she and Catra had gone to their first planned parenthood rally - homemade signs and bright optimistic faces ready to take on the world. Maybe she still doesn’t.

‘There's nothing to stop them from having me arrest you.’ Barely audible even as close as Catra is to the shell of her ear.

But it doesn’t matter…she knows she’d do it again if given the choice.

So Adora doesn’t say anything. Just pulls down on the top of Catra’s head so she can breathe in Catra’s scent. Eyes still tearing a little as the chemicals mix and leak out her closed eyes. Catra exhales into her neck, a single sob wracking and in and out in shockwaves between their connecting bodies.

**Author's Note:**

> Aw these kids...just let them be happy.
> 
> Please comment freely and constructively. Feedback, both positive and critical, helps more than you know. Remember to drop in and read again every once in a while. I tend to come back and edit/add small changes 2-3 days after posting (because for some reason my proof reading and editing skills don't fully activate unless I've already hit post ???)


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